Unholy Spirit (The Necromancer's Daughter Book 3)

by Genevra Black

  "And I'm supposed to be honored that my son is there, fighting and dying over and over again? My baby suffering a thousand deaths is supposed to be a comfort to me?" Turning toward them once more, she bared her teeth. "Honor is to be remembered after death, yeah? Well, Astrid spent every waking moment trying to forget our son. She wouldn't even speak Kolya’s name."

  "You already got your revenge on Astrid," Edie said, balling her fists against the magic thrumming in her palms. "You tortured and killed her. So what the hell is all this?"

  "This is..." Indriði gestured vaguely, her smirk returning. "A little revolution, you might say. Fate decreed that Kolya and hundreds of millions like him should die. Maybe Fate is outdated."

  Edie blinked. What? From what she'd been told, Fate was what held the universe together—they were all tied up in one big tapestry. Pulling one thread could undo the whole shebang. A lesser Norn, of all people, would be aware of that. "You're willing to destroy the universe over one man?"

  Indriði inclined her chin. "If that's what it takes."

  "You're insane," Basile said flatly.

  "Am I? Because in the grand scheme of th—"

  "Enough." Satara surged forward, close enough that Indriði was pressed up against the glass. "No more monologuing."

  "Fine, valkyrie," Indriði sneered. "Do your worst. There's nothing you can—"

  Without ceremony, Satara kicked Indriði hard, boot hitting her in the center of her stomach. Her back cracked against the window, but Satara followed through. Shards of glass fell like rain, and Indriði screamed, pinwheeling her arms as she teetered on the window frame.

  Then gravity caught up with her, and she went sailing over the edge like a sack of potatoes.

  Satara was still, chest rising and falling quickly, and silence fell over the apartment. It was as though time stopped. Everyone held their breaths.

  After a few moments, she planted her foot on the window frame and unhooked the horn from her belt—the same horn she'd used to summon Bifrost—blowing into the steely morning sky.

  Da-daaaaa, da-daaaaa, da-daaaaa.

  Edie started and cringed when the resonance broke the rest of the windows on that wall, the tempered glass piling in its frame like a snowdrift.

  Before their eyes, the sky changed. The gray veil began to glow, as though lightning was flashing beyond it. The clouds roiled, swirling. Edie was reminded of the night of Zaedicus's party, after the Wounded and his army had retreated, when valkyir had swarmed the sky. Like they had then, they rode the gloom on spectral wolves, ravens, and horses, their wings outstretched and hair flying.

  An uproar of honking and squealing tires rose from the street as the small ghostly army approached the Baccarat. A handful of them dismounted and stepped into the apartment through the broken windows, while the others remained levitating outside.

  As Satara spoke to the other valkyir and the group began to assess themselves and each other for any injuries, Edie drifted toward the sectional.

  Her limbs barely consulted her; she moved as though in a fugue as she ran a hand over where Indriði had been sitting. Dry. No blood. It was hard to imagine someone could be so powerful that they could reverse time in a bubble like that.

  It was also hard to imagine that a fall from a skyscraper had killed such a person. She glanced over at the valkyir, who were embroiled in a heated discussion as they peered over the edge of the building. A horrible suspicion that they hadn't seen the last of Indriði crept up her back, and she looked away.

  How the hell were they supposed to kill the bitch, then?

  As Edie continued examining the sectional, something caught her eye. Something flat and dark, sandwiched between two cushions. She plucked it out, wrapping her hand around the grip. The dagger's runes flashed purple briefly, then faded to regular etchings.

  If Indriði wasn't dead, Edie might as well get something out of this. It also meant she could give Marius back his dagger of truth. She traced the runes with one finger, shivering, before tucking the dagger away in her coat. For now, an extra weapon certainly wouldn't hurt.

  Movement in her periphery caught her attention. She turned her head, cocking a brow as she noticed that the blanket thrown over the back of the sectional was trembling slightly. She approached, looking behind the couch. The hem of the blanket led her gaze down. A pair of long, thin green feet and four hairy blue legs poked out from under it, shuffling. Soft prayers in Old Norse were muffled by the gray cashmere.

  With a sigh, Edie pulled the blanket off Ilphas and Percy.

  The spider pivoted to look at her, pedipalps working anxiously. The light elf cowered, holding his hands up in supplication. "Ah! Hellerune! It— It's you!"

  "Hi," she said slowly. "Ilphas, right?"

  "Ilphas Miravn, at— at your service." He bowed his head, long ears pinning back. "I— I really had nothing to do with Indriði's plans! I was simply sent here by my master to work, I swear to you. A replacement for her old steward!"

  "Roggvi," Marius said as he came to stand beside Edie.

  "That's him!" The elf nodded vehemently. "He was killed. H-How did you know?"

  Marius crossed his arms. "Because I'm the one who killed him."

  The blood drained from Ilphas's face, big brown eyes going wide again. In a second, he was prostrate before them, every inch of him shaking. "Please, spare me! All I knew was that it was a personal assistant job!" He sat up, spreading his hands pleadingly. The shadows of the valkyir searching through the apartment crossed his face. "I can tell you all I know. Give you information! I can prove I'm loyal!"

  "Clearly not to your mistress," Marius mumbled. "So why would you be loyal to us?"

  The elf's ears flattened against his head again. "This is different. Indriði was a cruel woman. The Reach—that's what you are, aren't you? You're supposed to help people with no other place to go. That's me!"

  Edie sighed and looked over at Basile. "The spider is a friend. Do you have somewhere they can stay until we can get them to Anster?"

  "I can arrange something." The priest nodded and flagged down a valkyrie, pointing at the two as he chatted. At least Sissel would be happy to see Percy again.

  Suddenly, the apartment doors flew open with a bang. Edie jumped, magic shooting up her arms as she reached for one of her daggers—but relaxed when she saw it was Cal.

  He was harried, covered in blood. Her heart pumped harder. "Are you okay? What happened?"

  "I'm fine," he said, jogging in. He took a quick look around the room. "Indriði?"

  "She's gone," Satara answered, emerging from the bedroom hall. In her hands were two weapons of wood and iron, deceptively simple looking for what they were. Astrid's heirlooms. Armed with them, Satara looked ready to take on anything. "But I got what I came for, and she can't run forever."

  "Right on!" Cal took a step to the side and leaned to fist-bump Satara. "Now, not to put a damper on the mood, but we got a, uh, problem."

  Adam frowned and tugged on his guitar strap. "What's up?"

  "Reinforcements, that's what. Right on my ass, if we don't get on top of it." He jerked his thumb back toward the hall. "More'n I could ever hope to take on."

  "The Wounded is here." Edie wasn't sure how, but she was absolutely certain of it. She looked at Satara. "We need to get to the rally, but I don’t think the Gloaming is going to let us slip out. Can you fly us?"

  She glanced at the other valkyir. "We can."

  There was a boom several floors below them—an explosion. Every muscle in Edie's body tightened. "Sounds like our cue."

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  "Here," Marius said as the others paired off with the dozen or so valkyir who’d volunteered to help, "you can ride with me."

  Edie tilted her head, watching as he summoned a horse of light from the thin shafts of sun coming through the clouds. It was gold, slightly translucent, and seethed with plasma just like his weapons did.

  When the horse came level with the window, Marius mounted swiftly,
apparently unafraid of falling fifty floors to his death. Then he leaned and extended his hand, gripping Edie's forearm.

  With his help, she was in the saddle before she had time to psych herself out about floating six-hundred feet above street level.

  She was surprised to find herself sitting in front of him, cradled by his arms as he reached forward to grab the horse's glittering rein. His warmth was certainly welcome in the frigid air, but with all the blood rushing to her face, she wasn't sure she'd need it.

  "Hang on," he murmured, practically in her ear as he waited for the others to settle in with their valkyir.

  Edie shivered and peered over the side of the horse, holding on to the saddle for dear life. The street was a long way down, but it looked like her suspicions had been correct—no sign of Indriði’s body. There was, however, one hell of a traffic jam, and a crowd gathering around the base of the Baccarat, staring up at them.

  Finally, the valkyir took off, and Marius followed them. Edie squinted against the harsh wind, hardly able to see for her watering eyes.

  Above the overwhelming roar of air in her ears, she shouted, "Where is this thing happening, anyway?" Marius must know—he'd spent three weeks with Basile—but she'd never thought to ask.

  "No one was sure until a few days ago," Marius shouted back. "We only knew it would be in Central Park. But they've chosen the Bethesda Terrace. Are you familiar?"

  She snorted. "I barely know the names of stuff in Anster."

  "Well, it isn't exactly a rally venue. They probably don't have a permit to be there."

  Edie gritted her teeth. "I guess they figure, who’s going to stop them?"

  "We are."

  And with that, they were flying over Central Park, much faster than Edie had anticipated. Though green prevailed here and there, it was mostly an expanse of white. Some of the trees were bare, and as they careened toward the ground, she could see a mostly frozen lake over the tops of the trees.

  She heard the rally first: a woman's voice shouting into a microphone, though the feedback and echo this far away were too bad to make out what she was saying; the thunder of a crowd shouting a muffled chant.

  Then, as they sailed over the treetops, she saw it.

  In front of the frozen lake, there must have been a stone terrace and a pair of staircases, but at the moment, it was hardly visible. Every available space was swallowed by a sea of red. Armed Blood Eagles paving it treeline to treeline. On the upper terrace, Daschla was set up with a microphone and speakers, dressed in the warrior queen garb she'd worn at Shipshaven.

  She was surrounded by people. There must have been a thousand bodies, give or take a hundred, but no police to be seen. The only part of the terrace that was clear was the large fountain. In the center, an angel spouted murky green water.

  As they soared over, a roar climbed from the mob. People turned their heads and pointed. Edie wasn't sure where the valkyir intended to land, but as Marius followed them, circling in for a landing, she caught some of what Daschla was saying:

  "Your ideas have power. And power is what we need to put our ideas into action. The world is ending, but an end is also a new beginning. A farmer scorches his earth to make the soil richer for the next harvest. We will scorch the earth! And our children and our grandchildren will say that this was the place where the revolution began. This was the place where our warriors took back our country and our lives and our world!"

  Edie's spine felt like ice. Her instinct was to dismiss those words as insanity. But Daschla wasn't insane, and there was no way every one of these thousand people was either. They knew what they were doing. They were just evil. Greedy and hateful and selfish and hungry and evil.

  The horse finally touched down, and it took her a moment to realize that they were standing on the frozen lake. With a sweeping breath, one of the valkyir leading the charge blew winter onto the ice below them, strengthening it. As Edie and Marius dismounted, she was surprised to find that it wasn't even slippery, pitted and snow-crusted as it was.

  She raised her head, crunching across the ice quickly to join Satara and Basile at the front line. The Blood Eagles had turned to them, a tumultuous sea of red, shaking their signs and banners and shouting things she wouldn't dream of saying to her worst enemy. The valkyir and the Reach stayed still.

  Edie shielded her eyes with one hand, hair whipping around her head as she gazed at the upper terrace. Daschla had handed her microphone off to one of her aides, and with a burst of purple light, her true form was revealed—that dull, cracked, imperfect form.

  Apparently, there were those in the crowd who had never seen it before; a large portion of them turned their attention from the Reach to their queen, shouting their awe, cheering for her. She spread her wings and swept over the horde, touching down just in front of the fountain, closer to the lake but still surrounded by her followers. She towered over the men, whose body language said they were ready and willing to kill for her.

  "There are so many of them," Elle whispered, her voice nearly lost in the wind.

  "Yeah." Cal grinned around his lit cigarette. "But we got cavalry, ’member?"

  Before Daschla could speak, Satara raised her horn to her lips and blew, the sound trumpeting richly through the park.

  Again, the clouds lit up, and the ghostly forms of valkyir charged in a line toward the earth. Riding behind every one of them were human women, their armor trimmed with feathers and fur. Shieldmaidens. In all, there had to have been a hundred valkyir, with a shieldmaiden for each.

  Satara blew the horn a second time, and the air behind them sizzled, a faint golden outline appearing as if someone had cut through reality with a hot knife. The glow spread, taking the form of an oval portal. The image of a blue sky and grass swam in the oval for a second; then the image rippled, and a familiar woman stepped into the chilly air.

  Amat Izem held an ornate distaff in one hand. Where she didn't wear white padding, she wore silver armor, her locs wound into a tight bun on top of her head. She walked toward Satara, joining the valkyir and their shieldmaidens behind the front line. Following her, a hundred priestesses, defenders, warriors, and archers dressed in blue, red, and silver poured from the portal, filing into place with regimental precision.

  High Priestess Eniola stepped through last, dressed in dark blue, and the golden glow closed behind her. She took her place at the front line, beside Satara's mother, and called out an order in Old Norse. The Mare Isle forces began walking forward, spurring Edie and the others to do the same. Her heart pounded harder the closer they came to the terrace and the Blood Eagles. Their slurs and chants became even louder.

  Their approach seemed to agitate Daschla. She began to shout, her voice booming over the men around her.

  "The time has finally come, Blood Eagles. The Reach is here to wage war against us. To kill you and your families and take what you've earned." She spread her arms, looking around at them. "My warriors, didn't I tell you how deep this poison had spread through our very own faith? People attacking those with actual claims, actual European ancestry, and pushing you out? They think they can take whatever they want, but it's time to say enough is enough! It's time for the old ways to return, for the world to be ours again. The battle has always been yours, Odin's chosen!"

  Edie's heart thundered in her rib cage. "Why would you think Odin chose you for anything when we're standing here with ten dozen valkyir behind us?"

  Cal flicked his cigarette and spat. "Maybe you should give a little speech of your own, Miss Reacher."

  She clenched her jaw, glancing at the others. Satara tore her eyes from the Blood Eagles to give a little nod, tightening her grip on her horn. Adam and Elle watched with wide eyes, tense. Basile carefully took off his glasses and tucked them in his breast pocket. The Mare Isle forces looked on, backs straight as they waited for the order to charge.

  Performing on stage several times a week had mostly ironed out her stage fright, but Edie was no general. She couldn't give a proper insp
irational speech.

  Looking back at the mob, their insults echoing in her skull, she felt her face get hotter. If she couldn't speak inspirationally, there was at least one thing she could do—speak angrily.

  She raised her voice above the wind, letting words tumble from her mouth. "You freaks carve runes into your guns and kill innocents like you're ancient warriors or whatever, but you're not. You're evil, entitled bastards. Look at you! The crap you do doesn't mean what you think it does. Spraying forty-five rounds a minute into an unarmed crowd because you're angry people look different than you isn't honor! Setting a religious building on fire and running away isn't battle. Killing a girl because she won't sleep with you won't land you in the gods' halls when you die.

  "The Vikings did horrible things. A lot of people did. They're called the Dark Ages for a reason. But they were still horrible! Trying to absolve yourself of doing evil garbage by saying 'This aligns with the old ways' isn't fooling anybody. We don't live in 800 AD anymore!"

  She turned to the small army behind her, her fast breath fogging the air.

  "The old Reach is gone. Okay? I can promise you that. We don't need to be Switzerland, and we don't need to do what the Aurora does to protect innocent people. If we remake the Reach, it'll be based on compassion ... and justice. No more slavery. No more slaughter." Edie looked back at the Blood Eagles. "And no more of this bullshit."

  Beside her, Satara raised her horn and blew one last time into the sky, longer and louder than before. The sound made the earth rumble, the fullness of it filling the air with a wavering, antsy energy.

  For a moment, nothing happened. The air was still, a light snow beginning to fall around them.

  Then, directly in front of the Blood Eagles, sparks flew, like someone had taken a grinder to a sheet of metal. Before Edie could even comprehend what was happening, the sparks burst into the shape of a doorway, and a large, fiery form shot out, crashing into the Blood Eagles' front line.